


We All Do Things We Regret

by BewareTheIdesOfMarch



Series: Fiction Is Stranger Than The Truth [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Animal Transformation, Bat!John, Bodyswap, Crack, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Humor, I'll add tags as I go sorry for the inconvenience, M/M, Role Reversal, Sex Pollen, cat!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdesOfMarch/pseuds/BewareTheIdesOfMarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written from prompts given to me by a friend.  They range from the weird to...the really weird.  All are totally unconnected and fairly ridiculous.  Characters tags and fandoms will be added as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Batlock

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently my friends are a bad influence on me and I should stop giving in to their demands. Dragon, this is all your fault.
> 
> I apologize in advance.

**Prompt:**   **Molly/John - Batlock (Which turned into BatJohn with a bonus of CatSherlock.)**

* * *

 John wasn’t a stupid bat by any means.  He knew that humans were prone to putting those strange, see-through walls on their homes, but he couldn’t fly like he’d been able to before the accident and so would always claim that smacking right into one of those said walls happened simply because he still wasn’t used to turning left, not because he’d forgotten about the weird habits of humans _thank you very much._

Molly had been horrified at the sharp crack the little bat had made when he’d hit her sliding glass door and didn’t hesitate to bring the poor creature inside.  She’d let it stay the night in a nice, warm shoebox that was firmly out of reach of Sherlock, her cat.  When she remembered in the morning that bats were nocturnal and she’d have to keep him an extra day, well, it hadn’t been any trouble.

No one in their apartment (because it wasn’t just Molly’s apartment, Sherlock had claimed at least half, if not all, of it for himself) ever stated their intentions towards John, but even after one day Sherlock seemed to have become very interested in him and Molly couldn’t help but coo over his ears and little black nose.  The first day turned into two _just in case bats could get concussions_ and two turned into three _just_ _for good luck_ and then a week because _Sherlock was rather attached wasn’t he_ and so on…  By the time Molly finally got around to opening the door to the tiny balcony John just clung to her sweater until she went back inside.  She didn’t really mind if the tiny houseguest became a little more permanent.  (Sherlock was _awfully_ fond of him, and he gave her those _eyes_ she couldn’t say no - never mind that John was just a bat for God’s sake.)


	2. Otterlock

**Prompt: Lestrolly - Otterlock**

* * *

Okay, this is the last straw, Greg is no longer allowing Sherlock to interrogate suspects without John present to rein in his, shall we say, _abrasive_ personality.  He’d thought last time was bad, that had been a piddling disagreement compared to this.  He had a _tail_ now.

To be honest, neither of them had expected the old man to be a witch (yes, witch; he’d insisted that it was totally different from warlock or wizard and who knew magic users got so picky about their titles) so he shouldn’t pin all the blame on Sherlock.  He _shouldn’t_ …but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to.  Just as soon as Greg had thumbs again and the urge to obsessively clean his fur (his _fur!_ ) died down he was going to blame the detective so hard that his unborn children wouldn’t be able to enter the Yard unattended.

Currently, the only thing keeping him from biting the smarmy bastard’s nose off is the fact that Molly (sweet, wonderful Molly who puts up with more crap than he can imagine) is, at present, also an otter and engaged in cleaning the spot just behind his ears with her tongue (and my that feels nice, maybe he can return the favor later?). For now Sherlock will live, if only to explain how he is still human while everyone else has been transformed into a veritable menagerie.  Anderson is trying to hide in the corner as the literal elephant in the room, Donovan is barking at the suspect, the intern has coiled herself loosely around the base of a table, and in the midst of all this chaos the consulting detective himself is sitting cross-legged on the floor, apparently delighted with the very angry sparrow that is John. 

Greg will get his answers later, for now he needs concentrate on his sudden and intense desire to go swimming.


	3. Stuffedanimallock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've solemnly sworn never to write fiction about inanimate objects so when I was given this prompt I modified it so I wouldn't have to break my vow. Because, goddammit, I don't like writing about inanimate objects.
> 
> Also, I seem to have a problem with turning Sherlock into things. Oops. (btw the bear's name is John)

**Prompt: DI Dimmock/Lestrade - stuffedanimal!lock** **(I said no inanimate objects so they’re not stuffed animals.  But there are stuffed animals in the story.  I just really wanted to write for this pairing okay sheesh.  Also, Dimmock’s first name is Scott because I said so.)**

* * *

Greg should have known their relationship was getting serious when Scott introduced him to Sherlock.

The floppy stuffed tiger was worn with age and slightly faded, his tail had obviously been reattached at some point during Dimmock’s childhood, and one of his ears had some sort of stain that betrayed his owner’s habit of eating in bed - but somehow the stuffed animal still managed to convey an air of supreme disapproval and condescending boredom.

The other man watched Greg nervously, as if expecting his partner to proclaim this relic of childhood silly or to scoff at him for his sentimentality.

"Well," he finally said, "You were certainly better at coming up with names than I was; ‘Sherlock’ beats anything I ever named my stuffed animals."

"You don’t think it’s strange then," asked Scott, seemingly relieved, "that I’ve still got him after all this time?"

"Obviously not, I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I said it was," said Greg, picturing the slightly ratty bear he still has tucked away in one of his dresser drawers.  "But tell me, Inspector, does this introduction mean that you’ll be spending the night over here more often?"  The eyebrow wiggle was definitely worth the expression Scott made, and he’d admit that the pillow he took to the face for laughing wasn’t uncalled for.


	4. Dragon Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those prompts that really made me go 'what was I even thinking?'

**Prompt:** **Mycroft and Sherlock as bros - Dragon Tales** **(I haven’t seen this show since I was seven years old and you expect me to write a story?  Well obviously I have to give it a go!)**

* * *

Sometimes Sherlock thinks that Mycroft doesn’t remember any of it, not the strange attic room, not the box they’d found under the floorboards, not the yellowed paper with the silly rhyme, not even the ‘land apart’.

Sometimes he thinks about how normal people spent their childhoods and he cringes, they have no idea just how dull their lives are, and only he and Mycroft know differently - but really, why would you waste time in such a boring world when in the alternate you can _fly with dragons._

But sometimes, when the holidays come around, or John is out of town, he’ll find himself back at the estate.  Then, and only then, Sherlock will go up to the attic room, pry up the right floorboards, open the box, and take out the scale, and, just for a little while, he can escape to the world of his childhood.


	5. Dreadlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently the tags now look like there's a Molly/Lestrade/Dimmock threesome going on. I didn't really think this through. This one's a little longer. Please enjoy!

**Prompt: Molly/Dimmock - Dreadlock(lock)** **\- (Okay, first up, what the hell is Dreadlock(lock)?  Because I have absolutely no idea what it is so I guess I get to make it up.  Prepare yourself.  Also: Dimmock is still called Scott.  Because reasons.)**

* * *

To be perfectly fair, the disguises  _had_ fooled the suspect.  It was clever, you had to give them that.  But no matter how clever it was it didn’t stop all of Scotland Yard from pissing themselves over DI Dimmock in that wig. 

Greg had texted Molly pictures of Donovan practically collapsed over her desk with the caption _"Sherlock’s case got rather interesting today.  They’re on their way to the morgue, prepare your poker face."_  As members of the exclusive Friends of Sherlock Holmes Club they stayed in touch, but not to the point where they would message each other pictures of their coworkers.  Something big had obviously gone down.  Molly considered hiding under her work station but scrapped the thought after realizing her curiosity would never forgive her if she didn’t get to see what had reduced Lestrade’s entire division to tears.

Fifteen minutes after she received the message the doors to the morgue banged open and three people tramped in.  Molly regretted looking up almost immediately.  She had tried to prepare herself mentally but it was all in vain; her ugly snort received the sort of glare that would have left someone who didn’t have prolonged exposure to Sherlock Holmes trembling on the floor.

"Oh yes, go ahead and laugh, god knows everyone else has."  Dimmock was in a foul mood, most likely brought on the the fact that where he normally had close cropped hair there was a incredibly convincing wig that made it look like he possessed a full head of dreadlocks.  John just let out a sigh, having apparently resigned himself to his fate.  His wig was just as lifelike as the Inspector’s, but Molly didn’t think that shade of red was a naturally occurring hair color.  Sherlock, obviously, had saved the best hairstyle for himself.  His normally curly hair had been replaced with a wonderful head of flowing blonde locks.  Really, it was impressive that she managed to pull out the body of the victim before she had to sit down.

Sherlock, ignoring everything but the dead man on the slab, was utterly consumed with whatever it was he was doing.  He’d pulled a fork out of his pocket and it looked like he was prodding the corpse’s ear with it.  There was a thump as DI Dimmock collapsed in a chair next to Molly.

"Rough day?"

"You wouldn’t believe it if I told you."  He looked utterly exhausted.  "None of my sergeants are going to take me seriously again."

Molly reached over and pulled the dreadlocks off his head.  ”They’ll get over it.  Probably.”  Chancing a smile, she fiddled with the wig in her lap.  ”It gets better eventually.”

"Really?"  He gave her a pleading look.

"…No, not really.  But you get used to him after a while, so that’s something."

"Ugh" he moaned and dropped his head onto the table.  Molly giggled again and quickly tried to smother it, but to no avail.  He turned his face to her, and gave a frown. "Do not mock my pain Dr. Hooper, I am a man who has seen many things on this day.  I am not the detective I was before."  This time she didn’t even try to stop the laughter that bubbled up.

"Tell you what, Detective Inspector, if you survive long enough to arrest the guy I’ll bring you celebratory cupcakes."  This time he just quirked and eyebrow.

"Cupcakes?"

"Yeah, Dr. Watson usually apologizes when Sherlock gets really bad, but I feel like the wig deserves something a bit stronger than just an "I’m so sorry my flatmate’s such a tosser’ card."  Scott mulled it over with a grave look.

"I accept your offer of baked goods, Miss Hooper."

"It’s a date then."  The silence was deafening as both parties thought over what she’d just said.  "I-I mean, if you want, we don’t have to-"

"That would be lovely, um, here, I’ll give you my phone number."  Both parties fumbled for something to write with and only managed to come up with a pen between them.  Molly looked from the pen to DI Dimmock’s slightly panicked expression and burst into laugher all over again.


	6. Role Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something I'd write out in a longer story if I had time. Or motivation. Or both. But anyway, this one's a bit longer. I think they'll be leaning a little more towards this length from now on.

**Prompt: Jack Harkness/Mickey Smith - AU where Mickey becomes immortal instead of Jack** **(Ooh, I like this one.  This is really fun.)**

* * *

 The courting of Mickey Smith was an interesting process.  In the beginning, neither Jack nor Mickey had realized that was what was happening between them.  Jack hadn’t even figured out Mickey’s ‘condition’ until the seventh or eighth time they’d run into each other.  

_(Really though, it would have been hard not to notice when Mickey took a bullet for a pedestrian and walked away without even a scratch.)_

Slowly, and over many drinks, Mickey told Jack about his first death on Satellite 5 and how Rose had saved him.  Then he’d remarked, a little bitterly, how he hadn’t seen Rose and the Doctor since.  They'd dropped him off in his own time frame at his request; he'd been a little shaken from experiencing his own death.  But then he'd died again.  And again.  And he'd come back _every single time_.  Micky’d spent months looking for them but couldn’t find anything, and you can only search so many variations of ‘man with blue box’ before the government catches wind of you.  UNIT, Torchwood, and even some agency called S.H.I.E.L.D. had been in contact, and he’d gotten job offers from all of them.  Then their night had been ruined when a bar fight broke out, getting everyone in the pub expelled by the overzealous owner.

They’d stumbled into the street and stopped under a lamppost, about a block from Mickey’s flat.  There had been a long pause before they’d said their goodbyes, and Jack had been compelled to go for a hug rather than the sloppy kiss he’d usually plant on him.  Or anyone really. _(What can I say?  He’s an affectionate guy.)_  The other man just really looked like he needed a hug.  Then Jack had fiddled with his vortex manipulator and flashed out of there

The next time they’d met was entirely by accident.  Jack hadn’t even meant to be on Earth, he actually intended to stop off on Mars, but something had gone wrong and he’d found himself lying in the middle of the pavement on an empty street.  For lack of anything better to do he decided that he would just continue to lie there, and maybe get in a nice nap while he was at it.  The vortex manipulator was smoking anyway, which probably indicated that he needed to fix it.  Again.

A pair of unfamiliar shoes filled his vision after an indeterminate amount of time.  ”Do you know your sleeve is on fire?”  The voice belonging to the owner of the shoes was not unfamiliar.

"Mickey!"  Jack sat up in a flash.  "Fancy meeting you here!"  Mickey simply inclined his head in the direction of Jack’s arm.  Jack followed the look and gave a yelp, instantly smacking at his jacket in an attempt to smother the flames.

"Like I said; fire."

"Whatever would I do without you?"  Jack gave a wink and slapped out the last of the small blaze.  "Mickey Smith, you are a true friend.  Never change."  Then he jiggled the dial and the chronometer and let the device zap him off to his intended destination.  Earth wouldn’t have the parts he needed anyway.  It was better to risk the trip to Mars.  Really.

_(But the little voice in the back of his head noted that Mickey looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, even though the vortex manipulator indicated that Jack was more than ten years removed from that date.)_

_(That startled Jack a little more than he’d have liked to admit.)_

Somehow their meetings became almost a regular occurrence.  Jack would find himself on Earth and there Mickey would be.  Just out of the blue, they’d bump into each other.  And when Mickey joined up with Torchwood they’d fall in together even more frequently because they would find themselves chasing after the same alien.

_(Jack saw Mickey die more often than he liked.)_

Those meetings started to become more and more common until one day Jack materialized in London and found himself giving a cab driver Mickey’s address automatically.  He was right outside his door before he fully realized what was happening.  Looking down, he saw the key to Mickey’s flat in his hand, and remembered the package of the Betelguesian cookies Mickey liked that he’d bought on a whim that were stashed in his coat, the amount of Earth currency he had in his wallet compared to the money of other planets, and let out a quiet “Oh.”

He didn’t return to Earth for months.

_(Mickey was going to outlive him.  Mickey was going to stay young and healthy and Jack was going to grow old and rickety.  Mickey was going to die again and again and Jack would have to watch.)_

Jack appeared inside Mickey’s flat with flowers.

_(Every bit of him thought this was a bad idea.  Every bit of him was furious that he’d gotten attached.)_

Mickey opened the door and smiled when he saw Jack sitting at his kitchen table.

……………………

_(When he died he was going to leave Mickey the vortex manipulator.  He would do better things with it than Jack ever had.)_

The courting of Mickey Smith turned out to be _absolutely worth it._


	7. Fake Dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next couple of chapters are going to be the same scenario given to three different pairings. (Johnlock, Rose Tyler/Ninth Doctor, and the Ponds) Please bear with me, I had trouble figuring out how I should post these.

****Prompt: John/Sherlock, Rose Tyler/the Doctor, Amy/Rory - Fake dating** **

* * *

  **Johnlock**

John Watson may be many things (doctor, soldier, babysitter to the world’s only consulting detective, etc.) but completely unobservant was not one of them.  He wasn’t Sherlock Holmes by any stretch of the imagination, but he liked to think that he was a little more aware than most people.  However, it took him five seconds too long to realize that the beautiful woman who slid into the chair opposite him was his flatmate.

"Sherlock," he hissed, "What.  Are.  You.   _Doing?"_  The look the other man gave him was the typical ‘my god you’re a moron’ glare and was followed up with the eyebrow quirk of ‘it’s obvious really’.

"Relax John, we’re on a date.  Just pretend I’m that assistant of Mycroft’s.  You’ll do fine."

John managed a blank stare.  It was all he could manage at the moment; he’d just found out that his best friend has a cross-dressing habit so you should excuse him.

"You’re going to make the target suspicious.  Stop making such a idiotic expression and eat your panini."  With that Sherlock delicately picked up the glass of water in front of him and took a sip, being careful not to smudge his lipstick.  The only though John had was _'Why'._

**The Doctor/Rose**

This, the Doctor had assured her, was most certainly _not_ a date.  Rose had simply nodded indulgently and let him whisk her off to a high society gala on the moon of Iapyx.

This, the Doctor had muttered into her ear, was most _certainly_ not a date.  Rose had smiled at him and let him pull her away from the Judoon ambassador who had been getting rather too friendly.

This, the Doctor had said breathlessly, was most certainly not a _date._  Rose raised her eyebrow and continued to twirl in time to the alien music as they sashayed between other couples in a mad attempt to escape without being seen by the now enraged Judoon ambassador.

This, Rose yelled at the Doctor, as they ran from an angry automaton while the dance hall started to flood, was most certainly not the _weirdest_ date he’d ever taken her on.  He grinned and gripped her hand tighter while they fled for their lives.

**Ponds**

One day Rory was going to say no to Amy.  One day he was going to refuse to go along with her insane ideas.  One day he wasn’t going to let her dominate his free time with her own plans.  Today was not that day.

Today they were sitting in a movie theatre with his arm awkwardly around her shoulders as she pretended that she wasn’t intently watching Mels and her date sitting together and sucking face a couple of rows in front of them.  She’d insisted on spying on their date so they could get a peek at ‘the new guy’ and so they were awkwardly huddled in a darkened room while a truly terrible horror flick played on the big screen.

Rory had no idea why he’d agreed to this.  He’d asked why Amy had needed him to come with her, but the answer had been distracted and interrupted as she’d checked her watch and realized that they were going to miss the movie if they didn’t move quickly.  It figured that Rory would get to go on a date with the girl he’d been dreaming about for years and have to pretend it wasn’t ripping him up inside that she’d asked him only because she thought it wouldn’t be awkward between them.  

He really should have stayed home today.


	8. Bodyswap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort of continuation of the last chapter. I was given three couples and various prompts to write with them. This is such a weird trope.

**Prompt: John/Sherlock, Rose Tyler/the Doctor, Amy/Rory - Bodyswap**

* * *

 

**Johnlock**

He’d _told_ Sherlock not to be rude to the old woman. He’d told him that witnesses got angry or scared when he was brash and demanding. He’d told him that maybe this would be a good time to pull out the fake smile and the manners.

_John had told him so._

But that asshole hadn’t listened and now he was struggling to walk down the stairs from his bedroom because his legs were no longer _his_ legs and the legs he currently had were much longer than he was used to. Walking he could manage, stairs that appeared to be smaller than they were yesterday? Nope.

After surviving the stairs he awkwardly stumbled to the kitchen where he was greeted with the sight of his own face frowning in his direction. Today was not shaping up to be a good day.

 

**The Doctor/Rose**

The green armchairs in the experimental projects room of the Kudlak Science Academy were not safe to sit in. The natives of Kudlak, the Kidluk, had assured them that the effects were only temporary and that they would switch back in a day or so.

The Doctor was not impressed. He had already complained about having to wear a bra eight times and had made Rose put his newly acquired hair into a bun so it wasn’t in his face.

Rose was having a marvelous time. Having two hearts was like being on a perpetual sugar rush and she was could see why the Doctor always seemed to be bouncing off the walls. Plus she could run her hands across the black fuzz on her scalp as many times as she wanted without repercussions.

(But no matter what their opinions on everything else, both of them had agreed that the experimental sex was fantastic.)

 

**Ponds**

Amy did not enjoy being stuck in Rory’s body. Rory did not enjoy being stuck in Amy’s body. The Doctor kept calling them by the wrong names. Everyone was unhappy and they silently agreed never to speak of the fallout of that particular accident again.


	9. Sex Because of Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same old-same old. Three pairing, various prompts, yadda yadda yadda. You probably know the drill.

**Prompt: John/Sherlock, Rose Tyler/the Doctor, Amy/Rory - Sexpollen/fuck or die/aliens made them do it**

* * *

 

**Johnlock**

The aphrodisiac was a little overkill in John’s opinion. Having a normal Sherlock on his hands was bad enough, but horny Sherlock? If he hadn’t gotten laid so many times because of it he was pretty sure that he might have moved out. Luckily for the both of them the sex had been great and any plans John had made to get a new flatmate were utterly forgotten.

 

**The Doctor/Rose**

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring plants onto the TARDIS without a thought as to what they would to to Time Lord and human physiology. In Rose’s defense, the flowers had been very pretty and sex pollen? _Seriously?_ Who the hell prepared for sex pollen? Nobody, that’s who.

Still, as she and her Doctor lay tangled up in bed, Rose swore to never pick flowers on strange planets again. She was going to leave them _outside_ the TARDIS no matter how pretty they were.

 

**Ponds**

Their new room did not have bunk beds. It did, however, resemble the inside of a lava lamp. That’s a little weird, but when your wife’s second best friend (you’re the first obviously) is an alien and you’re living on his space ship you tend to stop questioning these things.

"Do you like it?" The Doctor bounced on his heels excitedly. He’d put a lot of time into selecting the new theme for this room.

"It’s very…retro." Amy backtracked quickly as the Time Lord’s face fell. "It’s lovely, just a bit orange."

"Well, excellent. I’ll let you get too it then shall I?" Before either of them could say anything the Doctor reached into his coat pocket and flung a handful of- wait, were those _condoms?_ \- something square and shiny at them, slammed the door, and took off down the hall.

"What is he..?" Rory picked a condom out of his wife’s hair and frowned at it, attempting to determine if it really was what he thought it was.

"I don’t know, but it seems like the Doctor is giving us his blessing."

"Well, wife, maybe we should accept this generous gift of…birth control."

"Yes, husband, I believe we should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (get it? aliens made them do it? the doctor is an alien? I'm not as funny as I think I am.)


End file.
